


IN THE PRESIDENTIAL SUITE: Of Love and Fear and Good Timing

by orphan_account



Category: The Good Wife (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-03-24 18:45:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3780379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Come on, please god, one hour, that's all we want..." Set after the hotel door closes in 2 x 23, what happens when Will and Alicia get their good timing in the Presidential Suite? Extremely fluffy, emotion and passion filled Willicia smut...Please review if you like it, and check out my other Willicia stories!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Come on, please god, one hour, that’s all we want,” Will sighed as the lock flashed red, over and over.  
“It’s ok,” Alicia smiled, leaning against the wall.  
It’s ok? He thought. Had she changed her mind?  
“I’m gonna go downstairs and get a new key. Thirty seconds,” he said, as assuredly as he could muster.  
As he took a step back, she grabbed his arm and met his eyes.  
“What?” he asked.

He felt so sure that she was relieved by the reluctant lock; that she was waiting to run like she had from his office a year earlier. His mind flashed forward to an image of his future self, sat at his desk, and thinking ruefully about how an elevator with all its buttons pressed and a broken key card gave Alicia one too many opportunities to back away from what she really wanted. Then it flashed back to the first time that he had locked eyes with her; at party in 1L he had heard a throaty laugh so free and expansive that he had turned, smiling, to see a young woman with dark hair and dark eyes and he didn’t know her, but he knew he wanted to…

Now, instead of running, Alicia moved close to Will and took the key from his hand, a coy smile curling her lips as she flipped it and slid it into the lock. It flashed green. The door was open, and Will’s stomach dropped. He had been so lost in what he thought he knew of Alicia’s thoughts that he had barely noticed his own raging storm of emotions.

As he tried to parse desire from need from fear from hope, she walked through the door into the suite, brazen and sure. He followed her, his heart pounding in his chest, in his ears, in his throat.

She stopped, in the middle of the room, and stood still, facing away from him. He felt hopelessly overwhelmed, lost in want and hurt, and fighting a storm of feelings that had raged for almost fifteen years. This was Alicia, and she was here, with him. He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her stomach, pulling her flush to him, and she moaned feeling his desire against her. He wanted her body, god knows he had never wanted – _needed_ – anyone like he did in that moment, but he wanted so much more of her, and he felt, deep down, that what he wanted was not on offer and he felt sad even while he felt euphoric.

Alicia was glad that Will was behind her and that he couldn’t see her face. She was terrified. She was terrified of how much she wanted him, terrified of what this night would do – to their relationship, to her job, to the façade that she had labored tirelessly to drape over the shattered shards of her life.

But her need was stronger than her anxiety – she only hoped he sensed the former when he span her around to face him and kissed her. His kiss was tentative at first, cautious. She pulled his hips closer to hers and she opened her mouth to him, granting whatever permission he was seeking. His tongue found hers and the low purr she gave made his groin clench.

She pushed his jacket back off his shoulders, and he delicately slid hers off too, draping them both over a plush chair. He grabbed her back to him, not delicate now but hungry, running his hands firmly up and down whatever part of her he could reach and all the while kissing her, kissing her. The floodgates of his need were slammed wide open now, and he held the back of her head still to push his tongue deeper into her mouth. Her knees buckled slightly at the intensity, and he held her up with an arm locked tight around her waist.

Her hands without thinking took off his tie and fumbled instinctively for his buttons, and she tried to stop her fingers trembling as she undressed him. Could she do this? Would she? For so long she had tried to temper her attraction to Will, ignoring it at Georgetown when it was inconvenient, and again at Lockhart Gardner, when it was even more so. She had wanted him all the while, and the dampened down desire burned furiously now.

Fifteen years, she thought, as he turned her around and unzipped her dress, bending down with it as it fell to the floor. She stepped out of her heels. Fifteen years she had wanted him, but fifteen years too since she had been with anyone besides her husband. She swallowed, ears ringing with lust and with panic.

Will’s hands sliding back up her body soothed her, and when he pressed himself against her she could feel again the strength of his want. _Wanted_ was the best thing that he could make her feel, after the affairs had crushed her self-worth into doubt, and replaced her carefree confidence with consuming rejection.

She was afraid that she would not be enough for Will, that maybe he would not really want her. Peter had said he did, maybe he thought he did, but he also wanted women that were all the things that she was not. How undesirable she must have been, she felt, for him to seek out so much more, so many times. She had not felt _wanted_ for…  
“Alicia,” Will breathed, kissing her neck and snapping her from her plaintive reverie.

She looked into his eyes, black with passion, and she melted at the unmistakable pleading on his face. He _wanted_ her, and she _wanted_ him.

She slipped off his belt, and soon they stood before one another, in their underwear, both deluged with lust and apprehension. Will pulled her roughly to him and she felt a sudden hand on her thigh, and then between them. He held her gaze as he climbed his fingers up to where he made her breath catch – he rubbed her through the black lace, wet already – and he watched her take what he was giving her.

He walked her backwards until she perched on the edge of the bed. He pulled her panties down and off, and had his hand back on her within a second. His fingers slipped eagerly over her and the feel of her so slick and ready made him groan. She lay back on the bed, and he hovered over her as he worked at her with his determined hand. She gasped as he pushed two fingers into her and curled them up to stroke her front wall.  
“Will…” She cried.

As his fingers moved inside her, he rubbed firm wet circles over her clit with his thumb and he stared at her face. He watched for when she creased her forehead, or bit her lip; he listened for each throaty moan or call of his name.

He watched her and he learned her and when he felt her walls start to flutter around his hand, he told her, “Let me feel you come,” in a voice so low and stern and calm that it tripped her over the edge, and as he rubbed and curled, she closed her eyes tight as her whole body pulsed with pleasure and release.

Will smiled. _He did tha_ t. Here was Alicia, so strong and composed, so poised and controlled, writhing and moaning against his hand, as he was the one to gratify her. _He_ did that.

Alicia smiled as she opened her eyes and saw him smiling, and she lifted her head to kiss him but he backed away. Without moving his fingers from her, he knelt slowly down onto the soft, thick carpet at the foot the bed, and kissed her inner thighs – the skin so soft and pale and thin – and he looked up to meet her eyes as he ran his warm tongue over where his thumb had been.

“Oh god, Will, oh god…” she cried out. He licked up and down her clit as his fingers pushed into her spot. She fought to find air to breathe as her pleasure swelled almost into discomfort; so extreme were the sensations and so intense the emotions. But he wanted more.

He drew his fingers out of her and she met his gaze as he shifted his head lower. He spread her apart with his hand and he lapped slowly up the length of her, and she could no longer see she could only _feel_. Her legs fell limp over his shoulders and he was intoxicated by her, by the taste of her, and by how powerful he felt to turn her on this way.

He pushed his tongue all the way into her, as far as he could, burying his face against the very core of this woman. This woman who he loved, he knew; this woman who he could never get enough of. But he would try. With his hungry tongue he fucked her, luxuriating in the intimacy, and in the way her legs tensed now aside his head. He was drowning in her, yet it was only her that helped him breathe.

Her yelps went straight to his groin, which burned at the knowledge that _he_ was making her cry out and wriggle and ball her hands into his hair to pull him into her.

“…Now,” she said, rousing all her strength to sit up somewhat. “I want you, now,” Alicia said, reaching for him and pulling him to lie on top of her. He removed her bra and massaged her breasts until she pushed his boxers down around his throbbing erection and grabbed the back of his head to kiss him.  
“Do we need…?” he pulled back.  
“I have an IUD,” she said – she had gotten a new one just weeks before the Kalinda revelation had left her utterly broken. “And I…” she paused, “am in good heath,” she said, slyly, almost teasing.  
He nodded. “Alright, me too,” he grinned, but then he swallowed, hard and dry, in anticipation of what he was about to feel.

Their eyes locked as he used his hand to line them up, his ferocious yearning matched by hers. As he slid himself into her, the hairs on his neck stood up, as a pelt of goose pimples covered his whole body at the sublime ecstasy – physical and emotional – of being joined with Alicia in this way.

Her sighs and groans directed him as he gave himself earnestly to her. With his left hand he cradled the back of her head, and with his right he laced his fingers with hers.

He stared at her face, stunned by her all the while. “I…” he said, and then choked back the other two words that he didn’t dare say. “You’re… you’re perfect.” He settled on that and he hoped that she knew. She smiled, a sad and happy smile, and she squeezed their entwined hands tighter together. In trade for his words held back he _made_ love to her, feeling the deepest parts of her that he could reach, and cherishing her as profoundly as he knew how.

He covered her lips, open and wanting, with his own, and pushed his tongue through them. She moaned into his mouth and responded by grinding her hips against him and meeting him thrust for thrust. Now it was his time to moan into her as their bodies slid together, building up one another’s pleasure.

He caught her tongue softly in his teeth and sucked deeply. He felt her core clench around him in response, and so he quickened his pace – sharper, deeper - as he caressed all the while her tongue with his. He knew she was close and he steeled himself to wait – he had been close since he had pressed her into the wall of the elevator.

With her free hand she grabbed at his back and bucked her hips as her climax approached. His long, hard thrusts sent her powerfully into pieces. As she came, crying out, she took him with her, and he released his seed deep into her as he called out her name.

They lay still together for a silent while, coming down from the highest of heights. He wanted to stare into her perfect eyes and never move. But he did not want to overstay his welcome, even though he had never felt more home in his life. He kissed her nose, and then her cheek.  
“Absolutely perfect,” he whispered into her ear.  
She moved her hand from his neck to his lower back, holding him firmly in place inside her. He smiled to himself, and relaxed. He sucked lightly at her neck and she sighed at the feeling of his mouth on her flushed throat.

Then he kissed her mouth, deeply, lovingly. She stroked her hands through his hair, softly, tenderly. It was all so slow and so gentle, and filled with all the things that they could not say and feelings they could not manage.

He was ready now to move from her, kissing her open mouth once more and withdrawing slowly. He lay back and he pulled her to him. He spooned her and she felt like she had never been held so tightly. He had a leg over her legs, and a hand pressed against her chest.

She was terrified of what they had just done, and of how right it felt, and how much she wanted it again and again, and him, again and again. She was terrified of how strongly her heart was thudding, and how strongly his was too, against her back.

She did not know that he felt betrayed by his pounding heart that thumped with the intensity of his adoration.

She did not know how much he wanted to protect her, and how the thought of how hurt she must once have been made him want to cry.

She did not know how desperately scared he was of how he would feel when this – whatever it was – would inevitably end. She didn’t know afraid he felt about her leaving tonight, or how much he wanted answers from her; commitments, promises.

Instead, she closed her eyes as his hand rubbed circles on her stomach.  
“Baby,” he sighed as he held her. He kissed the top of her head and stroked her earlobe between his finger and thumb and she almost cried with the tenderness of it all.

She basked in the bliss that they had built together, and so did he. Separately, but together, they put their fears aside, and felt only fulfillment, comfort, and tender closeness. This was their good timing, if only for an hour.


	2. Exposure

They lay together in comfortable quiet, both utterly spent but far too wired to sleep. Questions and doubts and hopes and fears coursed like sugar through their veins as they each tried to calm their racing minds.

Will felt guilty as he cradled her into his naked body. He felt guilty because he was so happy to be with her, to _have been_ with her, and it was all because she had once been so sad.

He wondered - if he had the choice of making Peter _not_ have hurt her, _not_ have shamed her, would he take it, and then have her _not_ wind up here in his own grateful and compassionate arms? 

He wanted to think yes, _of course_ , he wanted to think that even in this imaginary world he would do right by her and protect her, but he honestly didn’t know, and fresh guilt rushed through him as he basked in the joy of having Alicia Florrick curled into him. She was only there because she had been so devastated, and Will felt like he had a debt to pay – a point to prove.

 

Alicia picked up Will’s hand that was pressed against her chest. She kissed it and then sighed.

“I should go,” she said, as gently as she could, but the words hit him like a punch to the gut. Was she going to run? Was this over _already?_

“Please don’t,” he replied, instantly. He tried to sound casual, _nonchalant,_ but his words hung in the air and he cursed silently at himself in reprimand. God, he sounded pathetic.

 

To salvage this over-exposure, this vulnerability, he tried to direct his thoroughly emotional need into something physical.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” he said, glib as he could muster, while crawling his fingers down her stomach and then lower.

 

She moved her top leg to let him touch her, and exhaled with the trace of a moan as his hand reached its destination. As his fingers made her start to tremble, he stopped suddenly.

“I mean, if you need to go, you should go…” he grinned as he breathed the words into her ear.

“I… no…” her voice was pleading.

“Good,” he said, happy to have her needy for him once more and to have clawed back some dignity, some control.  

_God, what are you doing?_ Alicia thought to herself. She knew she should go – should pick up her things and leave– but she felt like she couldn’t have moved even if the room was on fire. She hadn’t felt such excruciating need for years and years and it was her body, not her mind, which was calling the shots now. 

Will moved out from behind her and he laid her on her back. Her eyes brimmed so fiercely with desire and Will knew he would never forget her face in that moment. She reached down to pull him into her but he dodged her hand.

Instead he knelt between her legs and kissed her, his tongue roaming into the depths of her mouth. Alicia raised her hips hungrily up towards him but he backed away. She looked at him, bewildered and ravenous.

He smiled, a small, sly smile, as he kissed down onto her chest, and trailed hot, sloppy kisses down the midline of her body, lower and lower until,

“Ahhh” she gasped, feeling his warm tongue against her. “Will!” she squeaked.

 

Will was so turned on by the sounds that she made and by the way she pressed her fingers into the back of his head to pull him close to her. But still his chest ached at the fact that she had tried to leave – and probably would again once they were done here. _Why could he not control his feelings?_  he thought, frustrated. This was so unlike him – to be lost in such love and longing and to feel so utterly, desperately powerless.

His emotions stabbed at him with their intensity. So he worked, as he often did, to focus them physically, and somehow to pass them onto her…

Will stopped his tongue for a moment, and her eyes and mouth fell open. He put his fingers on her, and pulled up, gently coaxing her clit out from beneath its hood until it was fully exposed.

He dropped his head to touch her exposed clit with the tip of his tongue and she gasped sharply and her hips impulsively bucked back and away from the intensity.

He pulled her back and held her in place.

“Relax, baby. Breathe slowly with me,” he instructed, cool and calm, and she didn’t know what he was doing but she obeyed, drawing in long, slow breaths as he gazed up at her from between her open thighs.  

He wet his tongue and placed it back on her – she gasped again and his arms stopped the instinctive movement of her hips.

“Oh god,” she cried out and her fingers were in his hair – half trying to pull him closer, half trying to push him off…

As his tongue licked over her, the jolts of pleasure were so rich and so shocking that it hurt. It was unbearable.

He picked up his pace, and when he slipped his fingers into her slick core she pressed her head back hard into the pillow and yelped. 

She couldn’t take it – she tried to follow his instructions and _breathe slowly with him_ as best as she could but his tongue was scalding her with insufferable intensity.

He curled his fingers sharply round inside her, pushing hard and relentlessly into her g-spot, and her body tried to jerk out of his grip but he had her held.

From inside and outside, his hands and mouth overwhelmed her, and she writhed in insufferable pleasure which swelled and grew until she really could not bear another second of his onslaught and she moved her arms to push him off of her when… 

Everything went black as her whole body shook with an orgasm that stabbed through her like a million blades. It throbbed down to her fingers and toes, and it pulsed up to her cheeks, and she quivered and convulsed, mouth open but silenced by the force of feeling that rushed through her.

When she came around, she found her legs clamped tight around Will’s head. She tried to quickly let them fall apart, to free him, but her body did not seem to respond to her intention, and so she prised her thighs apart with her hands instead. 

Will looked up at her, smug and satisfied, but with intrigue and questioning in his eyes. He knew that that would have been a lot. But he wanted to impact her as she had impacted him.

She met his gaze through the haze of her lingering ecstasy, and she felt astonished, overwhelmed, and strangely, a little angry. She had been so at his mercy, and so, _so_ receptive.

He licked soothing slow strokes around her – avoiding her clit, knowing she would be far too sensitive to touch. He kissed her thighs and tried to ignore the searing ache of his heavy cock.

He crawled back up the bed and spooned her again as her breathing regulated.

“I have never... I... That was...” she tried. Though she often labored to choose words, now she could find none.

Instead she turned her head and kissed him - a gentle press of her mouth and a desperate, needy roam of her tongue. She pulled her head away and looked at him again, in disbelief and adoration. She smiled as she turned back away from him and settled into his arms.  

 

The back of her body molded into the front of his, and he breathed in her hair and sighed.

He was so hard that he burned for the sweet release of her warm, wet pressure squeezing him tight. But it would be too much for her, too sore, and so he focused on feeling her heartbeat through her back instead of the need between his thighs.

They chatted, happy small talk, about the case, the glove, the news; about a million little things and it was trivial and wonderful.

After a painful while, Will’s erection began to soften. Alicia, feeling ready now, ground her hips back against his crotch, making him moan, tortured, as blood rushed back and he grew stiff and hot.

Wordlessly and with the tacit ease of long time lovers, she lifted her top leg and reached down with her hand to slide him into her. She stayed settled in his embrace, her back to his chest, but she turned her face to him.

His jaw clenched tight against the unbearable intensity of the pleasure that rushed through his body like electricity. “God,” he cried through gritted teeth and pulsing temples.

His vision blurred and faded and he fought through it to stare at her in wonder. He couldn't bear to miss a second, and he scanned her face - over and over, memorizing what caused what - using her facial expressions like signposts as he learned his way through this new land. 

They moved together, so slowly, and she felt absolutely raw – physically and emotionally. His long, gentle thrusts were as much as she could take, and when he reached a hand around between her legs it was _more_ than she could stand and she inhaled sharply.

He lifted his fingers quickly from her. A moment later he lowered them back to either side of her clit, avoiding direct pressure after the intensity of before.

She purred.

“Is that ok baby?” he asked.

“That is _amazing_ ,” she said, hot and breathy.

 

They stayed almost still – tongues lovingly moving over one another as their bodies spooned, and they rocked slowly together. He held her close to him – one hand moving over her chest and breasts, the other between her legs stroking around without touching her clit.

As their hips moved in unison, Alicia out of nowhere felt suddenly close, and her high-pitched moan into his mouth let him know to keep going exactly as he was.

He groaned in response, wanting desperately to feel her come. As their rhythm built in urgency, her hands grabbed out at whatever they could grasp and she came so hard and so long that she cried out with utter abandon and desperate relief.

The second he felt the first clench of her climax, Will shattered too, releasing the slow-burning need so powerfully, that he thought he had never, would never, come so hard.

Together they fell, and together they moaned against one another’s lips as their bodies shook and spasmed with the shocking bolts of pleasure.

“Jesus Christ,” Will breathed as they came back down.

“I feel like I’m on fire…” she concurred.

Alicia turned her head away and nestled back into his big spoon, a position that already was so comfortable and familiar that they felt like they had been lying this way for years. He wished that they had.

In their shared moment of vulnerability, and with him still buried inside her, Will spoke. “I want you to stay here with me tonight.”

He liked the sound of the authority in his voice, he thought it obscured the helpless need that drove it.

She thought, and her silence drove him crazy.

“What happened to one hour?” she teased and he laughed, but his stomach tightened as he yearned for an answer.

Her body wasn’t calling the shots anymore, her mind was. She knew what she should do, and she scanned the floor for her clothes, her shoes, her purse.

But something thrilling and terrifying flashed into mind – the thought that she did not have to be good, right now, the thought that she could do whatever she wanted.

_What do I want?_ It felt dangerous and exhilarating.

“Of course I’ll stay,” she murmured, and against the back of her head he beamed.

Now Will tried to joke. “Good. Now I guess you won’t find out what tricks I had up my sleeve to make you stay…”

“Well in that case, I should take off…”

Through their jokes and their lightness they skirted the overpowering exposure that they felt. But when their giggles subsided, they both knew.

Lying still, bodies enmeshed, they held each other closer than they had all night. And then, exhausted, overwhelmed, and stunned by all of it, they both fell asleep with him still settled inside her, not guilty, not afraid, just calm. Just right.


	3. Relax

Three months later, they were back. Not in the Presidential Suite, but Will had booked them a room a few floors down for Thursday night. Their spree of clandestine hotel trysts had taken them all over Chicago’s loop. It wasn’t that they enjoyed the adventure so much as they had to keep moving to avoid suspicion.

 

“I should start a travel blog,” she had joked once, over room service, and he had laughed.

“I can see it now, ‘SA’s wife lists top ten Chicago hotspots for extramarital affairs,’” he said, and he heard the words as they came out, didn’t mean them like they sounded, didn’t mean to debase her, or them, and he looked quickly at her with regret in his eyes but she laughed and he hoped it was ok.

 

Will didn’t like all the moving around. It made him feel like they were on the run – fugitives. He knew they were, in some sense, but he wanted so badly to try out _normal life_ with her. Checking into hotel after hotel made it hard for him to relax, and hard for him to feel like he could offer her stability, security, calm.

 

But finally, this Thursday, they were revisiting a hotel for the first time.

 

Returning felt like a special occasion to him, and he had wanted the whole evening with her – but he knew that she was slammed with depos, and having a tough week. When it turned out that she had to work through dinner, he allowed himself to fantasize just for the _briefest_ moment about pulling rank and adjourning proceedings, before shaking the thought away…

 

He had played boss three or four times, so far, gotten them out of morning meetings with excuses he knew Diane would blindly accept, so that when they woke up together he could keep her for a little while longer, at least until check out. He knew she didn’t like it - the power dynamic made them both uneasy and he tried to avoid it - but sometimes they needed some more stolen hours. And they always made the most of them; either lazily, with little kisses and lingering moans, or frantically, pinned onto the bed or pressed against the wall of the shower while warm water beat down onto their skin…

 

At 8.30pm, he arrived first, as per their routine. In the lobby he stood still. He held his phone to appear occupied, but really he stood in silent honor for what had happened here, for the exceptional moment that they almost did not have – the moment that the Burns Association convention and the full elevator and the temperamental keycard had tried to steal from them.

 

Today three empty elevators sat in wait and he smiled at the irony. He picked one and pressed 15, and then, compelled by some unknown force, he pressed a palm flat over the buttons to make it stop at each floor on the way up. He leant back against the wall and let the memories flood through him. The sound of the doors took him vividly back, and he remembered the panic he felt that she would back out, that she would run, and the panic he felt when he realized that she wouldn’t.

 

In the room he waited for her double knock.

 

“Sorry about the downgrade…” he smiled as he opened the door, nodding at the space behind him.

 

“Peasants’ quarters, really,” she quipped, taking in the crisp white decor and feeling a rush of nostalgia.

 

She hadn’t been able to stop and stand in the lobby, even though she too had thought about it; she couldn’t risk recognition. In the elevator, she was alone, and she sighed _“God”_ at the memory of how scared she had been and how soothed she was by his apparent certainty; by how his hand took hers and he kissed her even while the doors opened again and again.

 

“Back where it all began,” she said, smiling softly. He wanted to say, _“It’s like our anniversary,”_ but he thought better of it and instead he watched her lips curl and pulled her to him to push his tongue through them.

 

Her fingers started fumbling for buttons, zips, and straps, but he groaned “Wait,” through gritted teeth.

“What?” she said, pressing her crotch against his.

He stepped back, putting space between their bodies and said, “Stop, Alicia.”

 

Her eyes widened and rejection crashed into her like a fist down her throat. Her cheeks flushed. _Was he… could he be…? But he had just kissed her…_ She thought of when Peter had declined her advances – said he needed a shower first after a long day - she had read nothing into it at the time, but history had been a cruel teacher. The sting that she felt now reopened old wounds, too, and exposed the pain and the shame that sat always just under the surface since… everything… and she felt queasy. _Not again._

“You… you don’t want to?” She said. It was half question, half accusation, all apprehension, and he hated it. 

 

“Leesh,” he frowned. “You can’t seriously think that,” he replied, closing the distance between them and readjusting his straining erection against her for emphasis. “I have wanted to all day,” he said and he felt guilty and sick that he might just have scared her or hurt her. “I want to all day, every day,” he mused, teeth nipping the thin skin on the side of her exposed neck. “You know that, baby.”

“Then, what?” she asked, quietly. Inwardly she raged at herself for the tears that threatened to rise up in relief and confusion.

“There’s time,” he breathed, relishing the words and the fact of it. “We have time,” he said, slowly, hardly believing it himself.

“…Okay…” she said, still unsure.

“Baby, relax,” he instructed. “I just want to make you feel good.”

 

He kissed her, softly, and they undressed, slowly, clothes pooling at their feet like a snake shedding skin.

 

He sat upright on the bed, leaning against the plush headboard.

“Come sit here…” he said, a low purr, patting the space between his legs. She sat in front of him, facing away, and leant back against his chest.

“Close your eyes,” he murmured, squeezing her shoulders.

 

He laced his fingers into her hair and pressed them into her scalp, massaging her head and unleashing a wave of involuntary shivers.

“I want to make you feel so good,” he repeated.

 

Relaxed now, and convinced of him, she let it all fall away. He felt her body go limp and loose on top of him as he cherished all of her with his hands. He ran them up and down her arms, and took each of her hands in turn into his, pressing hard into her palms to massage out all the stress laid down in tight tendons or stiff muscles.

 

He came back up to her shoulders and used his thumbs to carefully, attentively, knead out knots and tension. As his hands worked over her, gentle little moans fell from her lips.

 

“I want you to feel good, baby,” he said once more as he worked.

 

He wanted so badly to gratify her, to flood her with pleasure the way he was flooded with feelings as his hands roamed over her. As he felt her body soften, he wondered, _after everything you’ve done and been through, holding up the sky, have you stopped for just a minute? Has anyone held you, and touched you, and let you relax? Let you do nothing and made you feel good?_

 

He tried to make the moves of his hands slow and steady – not desperate and fearful as they usually were, as if each time might be the last. They had been here before, and they would be here again, he told himself.

 

After her shoulders and back, he softly reached his fingertips up to her jaw and instinctively she flinched and leaned her head away from his grasp.

“Baby…” he whispered.

She leant back to him but _god_ it felt so intimate having his hands on her face that her chest tightened, and so did her groin.

 

His fingers gently rolled around her temples and along the line of her jaw, and the sensuality of it made her blush.

 

As he caressed her face he looked down at her in wonder. He was amazed by her. Amazed that this woman – who was just a girl, really, when they first met – was now a mother, had spun children from her own flesh, had shown composure and posture in the face of scrutiny that he knew would have sent him running, or to the bottle.

 

From her face, his hands moved down to massage along her collarbones, her chest, and then her breasts. She was so unwound but his fingers danced like electricity over her, making her body stiffen and her breath grow shallow. Need blazed furiously between her thighs as he rolled her nipples between his fingers and she arched her back against him and moved her own hand to her groin.

 

He smiled, throbbing against her as he looked down at her over her shoulder. He watched her for as long as he could bear, softly moaning his arousal at the visual. Then he gently brushed her hand away to replace it with his own. Her wetness on his fingers made his groin clench, and his stiffness pressed hard into her back as he dipped his fingertips into her making them both moan.

 

She raised her hips and aligned them, lowering herself onto him.

“Oh god,” she sighed, and each inch of her skin felt charged – his hands had awakened every nerve ending, and she felt starved for him and overwhelmed by sensation that prickled her whole body. She grimaced at the intensity as he rocked up into her, hands still reaching around and working as they slid together.

 

Her breaths grew shorter and sharper and he put his mouth back on her throat for generous hot kisses, breaking the contact only to whimper, “I feel so close to you, baby.”

“…Don’t stop,” came her reply, as she pushed her hips down harder against his thrusts. They moved in perfect synchrony, so knowing, now, of one another’s bodies.

 

With unshakeable focus he proceeded, desperate to bring her the ultimate pleasure, the ultimate release. As he pumped into to her he felt her clamp down around him and when she threw her head back crying, “Oh god, oh my _god_ , Will” the sounds of her delight took him right over the edge with her, and he saw white spots on the back of his eyelids as he quivered with the intensity of their gratification.

They fought for their breath and he wrapped his arms around her, slowly rolling them sideways so that he spooned her.

 

“Mmm, I'm happy,” she mewed, coming down. His arms felt so familiar, now.

 

She remembered how her heart had raced through their first night a few floors up. She had felt so uncertain, so scared to be vulnerable, so raw from her betrayals, and so afraid of her want for him.

“Me too,” he sighed, nuzzling his face into her neck.

“No, really,” she said, forehead knitting into a frown. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?” he asked.

 

She didn’t know how to answer. She didn’t know where to begin. She was grateful for him and for how much he wanted to please her, even though the strength of his feelings scared her sometimes.

 

His engulfing desire had rescued her, really. Not from the hurt, but from the shame. The consuming shame of her public rejection; the shame at the suggestions of her sexual inadequacy, as talk shows called her frigid, past-it, drab. Will couldn’t fix the publicity of her humiliation, and nor could he undo the injuries of her husband’s infidelities, injuries whose thick scar tissue gnarled around her insides and always would, she guessed. But Will made her feel like she was precious once again, and she could never repay him for that.

 

She remembered the afternoon he’d offered her her job. “When I’m broke and lying in an alley somewhere, do something nice for me,” he had said. But she felt like that was what _he_ had done. When she had needed him, without even having to ask, he had gathered up the pieces of her that were shattered and scattered, had pressed and smoothed them somewhat back together. He had lifted her from her alley, from her rock bottom, and for that, she was grateful.

 

“I… for, all of it. I don’t know… “ she said. “It’s, it’s funny, being back here, how… different… everything feels now.”

“I know,” he said. “It feels good being back here, huh?”

“It does.“

 

They lay in thoughtful silence as he ran a hand softly up and down her arm.

 

“I always want you to feel good, with me, feel relaxed,” he said gently, after a while.

Her eyes felt heavy. “I do feel relaxed. I feel _too_ relaxed, drugged, or something,” she said, smiling.

“Then my work here is done,” he said, breathing in her hair, and thinking that it was funny that she said that because he felt like _she_ was a drug for him that he needed, always, desperately.

 

On their other nights together, moving through hotels and the city, they fought sleep. Trying to make the most of their fleeting time, they would talk and fuck and laugh and curl up, sometimes until light glowed through the curtains. But this time, back where they had begun, he finally could relax. She was still here, still with him, and he wanted her to feel the same calm that he did, wanted her to let everything go and know that with him she could find comfort and release.

 

He was amazed when he felt the tension fall from her as she dozed in his arms. Never _once_ had she fallen asleep first; and never once had she stayed asleep when he got up to get water or to use the bathroom. She slept lightly and precariously, as if she was always on alert; always ready to fix, to act, to run. But now he watched as she melted into the mattress while he held her, and he was amazed by her anew.

 

This was where they had spent their first night together. He looked around and up at the ceiling in gratitude, thinking that this place would always be sacred to him.

 

In the morning, he woke up and groaned instinctively at the joy of having her curled into him. She was still asleep, exactly as she had been all night long, and he smiled. He felt proud of himself, his protective impulse gratified.

 

He pulled on his clothes and laid hers out on the couch. He wanted so badly to kiss her but wouldn’t risk waking her, so instead he stood and watched her for a moment. Then he snuck quietly out of the room. As he hung the Do Not Disturb sign on the door, he texted her so that she would wake up to reassurance. ‘Sorry to run out, I’ve bfast meeting with DL. Told her I asked you to go meet Paisley’s new patent lawyer. Come in by noon and we’re all good. Hope you feel as relaxed as I do baby.’


End file.
